Civil Blood
by Mebrireth
Summary: Pre-LOTR, one-shot vignette. When Legolas leads a routine patrol in Mirkwood he finds out just how heavy his burdens lie. R&R please!


Author's Note and Disclaimer: Hello. Well this is a short vignette that came to me last night and I just had to write it down. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think of it. And all characters recognizable as the great J.R.R. Tolkien's are not mine and I probably can't even claim rights to the plot, but I make no money off of this anyway. So, enjoy, hopefully.  
  
Civil Blood

Legolas knew they were coming.

As a good captain should, he was always on alert, always ready to fight to defend himself and those he led. Especially when patrolling the southern borders like this, there had been reports of increased activity, and he had took it upon himself to see to and rectify the problem.  
  
Legolas stopped and shouted a short order. The other elves looked around for a moment, their own keen senses quickly picking up on the reason for such an order before falling into position. Orcs were coming.  
  
Legolas already had his bow readied with an arrow fitted to it. He stood near the middle of the contingent, looking and making sure that everybody else was prepared and aware of what was going on. They did not have that much time, the enemy would be upon them soon.  
  
As Legolas surveyed the group, he noticed the other elves looking at him, especially the younger ones. They trusted him, they looked to him for their orders. He was always infallible in tense situations, always remaining calm and collected on the outside, being one of the best leaders they could hope to have.

Or at least that was what they thought.  
  
Legolas himself took up his role as a heavier burden than it likely should have been. As the son of the king, it was of course a natural birthright to be a leader to his kin, to always be expected to be above the average and show he was worthy of his birthright. And he did not want to fail them, did not want to suffer the embarrassment of not proving to be of good enough quality and only being leader because of who he happened to be. He wanted those that followed to have reason to believe in him, and so far he had been doing a good job.

But often he felt he was extremely lucky.

Luck often played closely along with fate, and there were many occasions where he probably should have died by now.

But he was still here, and still a warrior, and still their captain. He would fight to the death, as they all would, and hope that his death would not be too premature and he could continue to prove his worth as more than just a birthright.

The first foul creature came into eyesight.  
  
Legolas' arrow was loose before he was even fully aware of doing so, it was such a natural habit by now. Kill or be killed, that was the way of things, especially if you were a leader.

The orc was down before even being within striking distance from his own crude bow, the arrow planted firmly in his neck. But that was only one, and Legolas could not afford to breathe in relief, for many were quickly following.

Other arrows were singing through the air, one coming so close from behind that it stirred Legolas' hair in passing. But he did not flinch, did not fear the accuracy of his own archers' aim. They too had to kill before being killed first, and Legolas would see to it that he did his best to ensure that none of them died prematurely either.  
  
Another weight to add to his burden. He was responsible for his men, and he could not let them die while under his authority.  
  
Legolas was loosing more arrows with deadly speed and accuracy, all of them finding their mark. The other elves were doing just as well, but soon Legolas realized that the onslaught coming towards them was larger than he had at first anticipated.

Legolas took another quick glance around. His patrolling party was not a full one, as they had not expected there to be too much activity during the daytime. But they were in a particularly dense part of the forest and the trees seemed to be bowing under the strain of the shadow that had covered much of this end of the forest. Obviously the orcs favored such conditions.  
  
"Stand back, spread out more," Legolas commanded. They were too compactly formed and the orcs were coming from all sides, they needed to cover their own backs.  
  
There was shifting around him while Legolas himself stepped back a few feet, his eyes never leaving what was directly in front of him. For while he could easily take down an orc closest to him, another would be directly behind him and quickly gain his place and so on, a terrible exponential rate. The orcs would be upon them soon, and their quivers were emptying fast.

After bringing down one such orc, another that was directly behind him leapt forward with a screech. The distance between them was too close and Legolas automatically switched his bow for his long knife. He ducked under the swipe from the orc's blade and came back up with a deathblow of his own, effectively turning the orc away while slicing through his middle. The orc fell and did not move.

But as always Legolas knew better than to be concerned with a fallen enemy for too long. His gaze was already back up and seeking out the most immediate threat. It was another orc to his left, his blade held high. Legolas did not hesitate and grabbed the orc's wrist, stopping his blow before driving his own long knife deep within the soft belly. He did not even heed the foul cry of pain and was already letting go and freeing his knife.  
  
It was almost like a dance he was well trained for.  
  
Step, duck, swing. Step, parry, thrust.  
  
This was where his worth lie, this was where he could prove that those who followed him did not do so without reason.  
  
But then something went wrong.  
  
He was distracted from his own fatal dance and timing. A quick look around him brought a swift message home.  
  
There were too many orcs. And too little elves.  
  
His men were being driven back, besieged by several orcs at once. And not all were as practiced for the dance as he, not all could do it without help or orders.  
  
"To the trees," Legolas called out so that all could hear. "Take refuge in the trees."  
  
It was a retreat, and it meant abandoning their southern border to the enemy. But Legolas felt no qualms about making the order. It was not cowardly, not below a warrior's standards. It was him looking to protect the lives of others, to regroup and come back when their numbers were stronger.  
  
And by the time Legolas had turned his thoughts back to his own affairs, he found his timing had been thrown off. He faced front just as a smaller orc jumped for him. The orc was too close, its movements too soon, and before Legolas could bring up his knife the creature had slammed into his chest, bearing Legolas down with him to the soft earth.  
  
Legolas only had time to bring his knife up across his throat, blocking the blade of the orc as it tried to slice through his flesh.  
  
Legolas gathered his legs and bent them in close to his chest, bringing them underneath the body that was on top of his. Then he pushed off, sending the smaller creature in the air and off of him. And then Legolas rolled, his only thoughts now on regaining his feet.  
  
But he brought himself up short and jerked aside just as an ironclad boot came stomping down towards his head. Another orc was standing to the side, ready to immobilize the elf before driving his weapon through his chest.  
  
Legolas immediately gathered all four limbs underneath him and pushed off awkwardly, all grace momentarily forgotten. He did not have time to gain his footing in a true manner, he had to get away from the orcs that were quickly cornering him, and he had to do it now even if it meant scrambling along the ground.  
  
He managed to separate from them a few feet and he sprang up, the bottoms of his feet once again solid on the ground. But even those few moments had cost him and he found himself faced with another orc adding to the other two. All three of them moved towards him, he was surrounded.  
  
Legolas went for the one directly in front of him, moving with lightning speed to the right and then feinting at the last second to the left. His move worked well, and the orc felt the bite of Legolas' knife as it sank deep into its unprotected side.  
  
But Legolas had not accounted on the speed of the others.  
  
Before he could free his knife, the orc on his left took a swing with his blade. Legolas saw it and moved to avoid it, but even his speed failed him. He did not get entirely out of the way and the blade knicked the top of his shoulder.  
  
Legolas clenched his teeth and yanked his knife free from the first orc before ducking as another swing was aimed at his head. This time he easily avoided it, but before he could strike out with his own blow a crashing pain came from behind. Legolas found himself stumbling forward from the impact and he had to twist to the side to avoid running into one of his foes. He turned his head to see the orc behind him wielding a large branch as if it were a staff, and the orc was preparing for another mighty swing.  
  
A small thought of hopelessness began to form in Legolas' mind. There was an orc on either side of him, and his timing had been thrown off a while ago. Luck made up for where training stopped, and he felt his luck just might have run out.  
  
But then there was another body in the fray, another figure to contend with. Only this time it was no orc. Legolas recognized Eradhan, one of the younger elves. And he was stepping between Legolas and the orc with the branch, his arms coming up to grab onto it and stop it from its descent.  
  
Legolas realized his own opportunity and immediately turned towards the orc that was behind him. He parried the thrust that was meant to make its berth in his unsuspecting back and sliced through the neck of the creature.  
  
And that was when Legolas heard the cry.  
  
It was that of a stricken creature, but not the one coming from the orc he had just delivered a death stroke to.  
  
Legolas turned in time to see Eradhan falling backwards, straight into Legolas' arms. Legolas caught him and fell back beneath his weight, cushioning his fall. His sharp eyes took in the blood coming forth from a large wound in the younger elf's temple, and then a glance at the orc swinging a now bloodied branch confirmed his suspicions.  
  
Legolas shifted so that he was supporting Eradhan in one arm before throwing his knife at the orc in one, smooth motion. The knife did not err in its course and the orc fell back as well, the thin blade nestled between his eyes.  
  
"Legolas, I'm sorry," Eradhan was saying, "I did not mean, I thought I could handle him."  
  
"Shh," Legolas interrupted him gently. "You can apologize later, now we have to get out of here."  
  
Legolas stood and pulled Eradhan up with him, but when he loosened his grip he had to grab onto the elf again as the youth sank immediately to the ground.  
  
"I cannot stand, I cannot get my body to cooperate," Eradhan said, his voice tinged with panic.  
  
"Do not worry," Legolas said, the calm he always purveyed on the outside coming through with a steady voice. But his mind was telling him otherwise. They could definitely not stay where they were, and even as he looked now more orcs were coming towards them.  
  
But he could not leave the younger elf. Eradhan had saved his own life, he could not abandon him now.  
  
Without stopping to think, Legolas bent and then straightened with Eradhan balanced on his good shoulder. Then he took three great steps and leapt up to a low branch of a tree. Normally such a thing was simple for him, but his load was unstable and Legolas had to grab out with one hand to steady themselves. Then, with one arm wrapped around Eradhan and the other balancing them, he began to slowly climb.  
  
It was not until they were within the dense foliage of the tree that Legolas lowered the younger elf to lay across a limb so that he could examine the full extent of his injuries. What he saw made his blood turn cold.  
  
Eradhan was already pale and his breath was short. When Legolas reached for his hand, it was a lot colder than it should have been.  
  
"I wanted to save you," Eradhan said, his voice rising with panic and fear, "but I cannot feel my body."  
  
Legolas gently placed his hand on the elf's forehead. "You did save me," he said, "you saved my life."  
  
And now he would be unable to save Eradhan's. The realization was unsettling.  
  
A closer look revealed that the blow had been mightier than originally thought. The elf's neck was broken. That coupled with the blow being to the temple did not make a good combination.  
  
"You're my prince," Eradhan was continuing, his words forced with labored breath, "tell my father I did it to save our prince."  
  
Legolas felt tears welling up in his eyes but did not let them fall. It should not be like this, nobody should have to sacrifice their life for his. But that was another birthright of his, a curse. Others always died before him.  
  
"You did it because you are a brave warrior," Legolas said, "you did it because you are a hero."  
  
Eradhan smiled with bloodless lips. "My father will like that."  
  
Legolas gripped the hand that was now turning to ice. "Can you try to hang on?" he said. He could not watch this happen, he could not have this young elf dying in place of him. It was almost like a sick joke the Vala were playing on him. To let him think he was deserving of his positions and titles and then reminding him of the terrible costs that came with it.  
  
But he was a captain, and a prince, and this was what those in leadership did.  
  
"I cannot feel my body," Eradhan said again for his answer. "I do not think I can force it to hang on."  
  
Legolas felt the tree shudder underneath them. The orcs were using axes to cut it down, they knew they were up there.  
  
But that did not concern Legolas at the moment.  
  
Suddenly all the training and laws did not make any sense to him. Kill or be killed, that was how it went, but instead it was kill and have someone else be killed in your place.  
  
That wasn't right, that wasn't fair.  
  
"Maybe Mandos will let me come back quickly," Eradhan was still talking, "so I can get a chance to serve under you again."  
  
Legolas finally felt a single tear slide down his cheek. "You do not want to be under me again." He kissed the cold hand, "You deserve better."  
  
The tree shook violently again.  
  
"Legolas," the younger elf said, "you are my hero, and this is the only way I would want to die."  
  
"You should not have to die at all," Legolas said, his vision blurring with the threatening tears.  
  
Eradhan opened his mouth to say something else, but no sound came out. Instead his mouth gaped a little further, and his bright eyes began to dim. The hand Legolas held went limp.  
  
Legolas bowed his head and closed his eyes. This was not right.  
  
The tree shook again and this time Legolas felt it veer to one side. It was getting ready to fall.  
  
"Legolas," there was a rustling in the branches.  
  
Legolas looked up to see an elf jumping into his tree though it was ready to fall. "Come, you have to get out of here."  
  
Legolas looked down at Eradhan. As much as he did not care for his own life right now, he could not let Eradhan's death be in vain.  
  
And besides, he was still the captain, still the prince.  
  
"Help me carry him," Legolas said, standing.  
  
With Eradhan held between the two of them, Legolas and the elf leapt to the next tree just as a final blow was dealt to their own tree. Legolas heard the tree begin its descent to the ground, but he did not turn, only concentrated on getting to the next tree. They were following the progress of all the other elves, making their retreat in the air.  
  
And when they got back home, Legolas would seek out Eradhan's parents and tell them of their courageous son. His own father would hold a hero's ceremony for him and they would put him to rest.  
  
And then life would go on.  
  
And Legolas would continue to work on proving his worth in protecting Mirkwood and its inhabitants.  
  
Because he was still a captain, and still the prince.  
  
And because he would never let Eradhan's death be for a lost cause.


End file.
